


Carry my heart gently

by Evil_Keshi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bottom Dean, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Keshi/pseuds/Evil_Keshi
Summary: Being a successful rock star? Check. Having fans throw themselves at him? Check. Falling in love with his best friend? Well, check. He doesn't have a chance but fine, Dean will deal with it (poorly so, to be honest.) Sleeping with said best friend? Well, fuck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! After a few oneshots, here comes my first chaptered Destiel story. I hope you will enjoy it! ;)

  


The first concert of an international tour is always special. First time playing the new album live, in front of fans and curious people both, first time being judged on those performances... Sometimes, it weighs down hard on the shoulders of the _Hell's Spawn_ members, which is why they all have their own rituals before the show.

Castiel will read a book, always the same one, his favourite: _The Elegance of the Hedgehog_ (but Cas is classy so he reads it in the original language, the bastard, and sometimes he reads parts of it in French to Dean, who can't understand a single word but still loves those moments.) Charlie, on her part, will stare at a mirror and repeat a few times that she's awesome and that she can do it - the three others all agree, even though she doesn't need to hear their opinions to know she's the best. Sam will make sure with the crew that his guitars are all lined up in the right order as to avoid panic on stage when he doesn't receive the right one, since it has happened before; now at least, Sam feels in control and if something goes wrong, he's the only one to blame for it. Last but not least, Dean will warm up his voice in whatever room Castiel is, singing Led Zeppelin while his friend reads. That is also a precious part of their ritual.

These little habits reassure them, make them feel like this new show isn't something too big, too different from the others - but damn, it is. Every concert is different, stressful and at the same time, so relieving and gratifying. How could it not be so, when thousands of people are singing along with them, to Dean's words, their hands high in the air, their fingers taking the shape of hearts that they can feel beat in unison with those of the four people on stage?

All their shows have some common ground though. The atmosphere, for starters. Even from backstage, they can hear the fans chanting their names or sometimes, the band name. The impatience is almost palpable. The fans are already singing some of their most famous songs, in hopes to bring them onstage faster.

On the stairs below the heavy structure of the stage, Charlie flashes a bright smile to the rest of the band before she goes up and walks into the light, under the deafening screams of their fans. She sits behind the drums, where she belongs, and as Castiel and Sam join her on stage, the apprehension vanishes: this is what they were born to do. This is what they love, this is their life, their passion turned into a job that makes them happier than they could ever have hoped to be.

When Dean finally appears, spotlights reflected in his green eyes, the crowd goes wild. The show begins.

  


"Oh God," Charlie groans, "I'm dying. Sam, bring your magical fingers over here and massage me."

"Yes Ma'am," the guitarist complies with a smile, handing her a bottle of water before he settles behind her, on the narrow couch at their disposal.

The moments after the show always feel... odd. In a good way, though. They can still hear the fans, although they are not as loud as before, and they are still swimming in an ocean of bliss after the raw emotions that a live show provides. But it's over, for now at least. It's a harsh reality, accepting that they have to wait for a few days, sometimes a few weeks or months, to meet their fans again and feel the way they did tonight.

For now, they will bask in the warmth of their fans' love a little while longer, thanks to the amazing memories they made tonight, as well as the flowers, plushies and other tokens of admiration that the crowd, so responsive and so loud, threw onstage.

"That was a great show," Castiel states as he collapses on the chair closest to the couch.

Dean, on his part, is sprawled on the floor, spread on his back like a starfish, and he groans approvingly at the bassist's words.

"We have the best fans in the entire universe," he tells his friends, smiling like a fool as he stares at the ceiling with sparkles in his eyes.

"Dude, you look like you just had an orgasm," Charlie complains, then moans when Sam's fingers worry at a particularly sore spot in her shoulders. "Sam, do that again!"

"Look who's having an orgasm, now," Dean teases her, sitting up to lean against Castiel's legs.

The bassist adjusts his position, allowing Dean to rest his back more comfortably against him, and he smiles. His friendship with the singer is one of these things that he wouldn't trade for the world, one of the many surprises he never expected to come out of the meeting where his friend Charlie introduced him to the Winchester brothers.

Two green eyes stare at him as Dean stretches his back and leans his neck backwards, against Castiel's knees.

"You're okay?" he asks.

"I feel tired," Castiel answers, "and hungry, though I might be speaking for everyone else as well on that point."

"True. Hey, Bobby, where are we eating tonight?" Dean calls out to their manager, busy discussing their return to the hotel with their bodyguard, Benny.

"Depends," comes the gruff answer as Bobby manoeuvres his wheelchair in order to face him. "Are you guys up for Italian?"

"I'd sell my soul for a nice Milanese cutlet right now," Charlie pipes up in a dreamy voice, while Sam makes some comment about _healthy Italian salads_.

Castiel nods his agreement and Dean doesn't say anything but they all know that as long as he gets his dinner, be it a burger or a plate of pasta with eggplants and parmesan, he will be as happy as Sam in front of vegetables.

"Guess that settles it, then," Bobby agrees.

"Don't forget to change," Pamela singsongs as she hangs the light blazer Charlie ditched on stage after two songs on the clothes rack. "Castiel, sugar, don't ruin these fancy pants with tomato sauce again, you hear me?"

"That only happened once!" the bassist protests with a blush, feeling the vibrations of Dean's laughter against his calves.

With tired groans, the four members of the band comply and change in a hurry, the perspective of having dinner soon a great motivation to undress themselves and put on more comfortable clothes like sweaters or plaid shirts. Castiel is halfway through buttoning his trench coat when Benny walks into the room.

"There are fans waiting for you outside. Do I clear the path or are you okay with signing a few autographs?"

"I'm fine with it," Sam says with a smile. "Some of them came a long way to see us, it's the least we can do."

"True," Charlie adds, "and they were super excited tonight, they made the show awesome. We should thank them."

"Cas?" Dean asks, turning his head towards the bassist who hasn't said a word yet.

"Sure," he answers slowly, glancing at Benny. "Just... don't let them crowd me?"

"I got you, don't worry."

Dean gently squeezes his best friend's shoulder. Cas loves their fans, he does, as much as the other three do, but unlike the others, the bassist doesn't handle huge amounts of people surrounding him too well - he just freezes and starts shaking all over, an old childhood trauma from the day he lost his mother at the mall and found himself surrounded by dozens of strangers, completely terrified. Most of the time, it doesn't pose any problem: their fans know how to behave when they meet them and sure, some scream and some cry too, but they respect their personal space - except when one of the members offers a hug. Castiel does so as well, on occasions. Small groups of fans don't scare him, while seeing Dean walking through the public as he sings during their concerts is enough to make him break out in a cold sweat.

"There aren't too many of them," Benny keeps on, his voice full of calm reassurance. "Ten of them, maybe?"

"Alright," Castiel nods. "I shall be fine."

"Great," Dean claps his hands, "Then let's get this show on the road. Sammy, smile!"

Benny walks out of the venue first, signalling the arrival of the band to the fans gathered in the cold of this late October night, pictures trembling in their shaky hands. A girl squeals when she spots Charlie's red hair and her eyes widen in delight and shock when the young woman smiles at her and heads her way. Their bodyguard was right, not too many people chose to wait for them. But the ones who did, well, they are awesome. Calm and amazed, giggling a little too loudly maybe, but that must be the stress and emotion of meeting their favourite band talking.

Checking on Cas from the corner of his eye, Dean grins when he sees his friend taking a picture with a woman and her daughter, a little girl in piggy tails who can't be more than nine years old. It will never cease to surprise him, how their music speaks to every generation. Dean has met fans old enough to be his dad and now, there is this little girl telling Cas super seriously that she wants to marry a guy like him when she's older - and Cas, the angel, places a kiss on her forehead.

The singer's grin morphs into a smaller smile and his features soften as he takes in the sight. He can't help it, even though he knows that he should be careful: maybe the fans won't notice but Sam would, definitely. He snaps out of his contemplation when Benny hands him a sharpie to sign his autographs, and he turns to a teen with another smile, wider and also a little more forced than two seconds ago.

"Hi!" he says cheerfully. "Thank you so much for coming tonight! What's your name?"

"J... Jenny," the girl answers, then blushes. "I... Uh, c... can I take a picture with you?"

"Sure, come here," the singer suggests as he rest his right arm across her shoulders, then looks in the direction of her raised phone. "Like this?"

Twin smiles, a flash. Jenny checks the resulting picture and grins, stammering her thanks as Dean pats her lightly on the back. Behind him, his brother has his arms full with a giant stuffed bear, Charlie is chewing on the cap of her sharpie and Cas looks comfortable. This is all Dean could ask for.

The next fan he turns to looks at him once then casts his eyes down, his cheeks turning a fiery red as he whispers a shy _hi_ and fidgets with a printed photograph in his hands.

"Hey yourself," Dean answers on a soft tone, smiling kindly at the bashful boy (is he _that_ intimidating?) "What's your name?"

"Lucas," the teenager murmurs, holding out the picture to the singer. "Could you sign this? Please?"

"Of course, Lucas. Here you go."

"I wanted to thank you," the boy suddenly blurts out, even as he takes the signed picture back.

"Thank me?" Dean repeats, a little surprised. "What for?"

"For coming out," Lucas answers. "It was... brave. And it gave me the push I needed to come to terms with who I am, so... Thank you. You helped me more than you can imagine."

Oh. This time, the singer knows he's the one blushing. Since he came out as gay a few months earlier, he has received hundreds of letters from people thanking him and explaining that he has helped them to come out as well. This, though? This is the first time that someone actually thanks him face to face and he... He doesn't know what to say. In a way, it makes it real: he really did help some people, who feel so grateful that they worked up the courage to tell him.

"I'm glad I could be of help, Lucas," Dean answers, his voice a little rougher than before.

Coming out was simultaneously the easiest and the hardest decision he ever had to make in his life. Charlie helped him to figure it out, weigh his choice, and he knew that the band and their little music family - Bobby, Pamela, Benny, even Crowley, their asshole director - would be fine with his homosexuality - after all, they had accepted Charlie's. It was a relief, to finally say it aloud, to let his friends, his brother know, but he had also wanted to make it public. The band had been so, so supportive, when it could have cost them their career...

Their fans were mostly female and there was no use in denying it: the fact that Dean had a pretty face played an important role in their success, aside from talent, skill and whatnot. Not to say that people didn't adore them for their music as well but... The singer and leader of _Hell's Spawn_ was hot and girls, women, whatever, they liked that. Admitting that he was gay meant running the risk to lose some of the fans... Dean had been lucky enough to evolve in a band whose members loved him to the point of putting themselves into jeopardy for his sake, without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Five months later though, the success of their new album defies all their hopes, the first concert of this tour was awesome and the amount of guys among their fans rose unexpectedly. Some girls still ask Dean to marry them, just for fun. Pamela is still pissed at him a little though, because she really thought she had a chance with him... But Dean knows she still loves him - in the friendliest way, of course - so they're good.

The singer only sees one shadow in the dreamy landscape that has become his life: his feelings for a certain bassist who's too blind to notice anything - and maybe it is better that way. Cas is as straight as the neck of the bass he plays, so...

"Group picture!" Charlie yells all of a sudden.

Oh God, Charlie and her passion for pictures... If she was a paparazzi instead of a member of the band, she could make good money out of the tons of photographs she has taken in the past three and half years. Sam under the shower, Cas sleeping with an open mouth, Dean wearing nothing but pink, satiny panties (that one was a bet, shut up.) A chance that Charlie knows her way around computers and shit like nobody else: all these files are well protected and no one could hack her most precious memories that easily.

The four musicians settle into the position they usually get into whenever their fans ask them to pose for a picture: Charlie hops to Castiel's right side while Dean stands on his left, an arm thrown across Sam's shoulders. They don't pick the exact same position all the time on purpose, not per se: it leans more on the reflex side, really. Back in the days, when their music was only beginning to draw the attention of the public and they gained their first fans, posing easily qualified as their worst nightmare. They just weren't used to it at the time and thus, they automatically chose to stand in a way that would reassure them, help them feel comfortable in front of all these adoring eyes. Sam, next to his big brother. Charlie, by her high school friend's side and on his right, just because she didn't want to look like a Minimoy between Castiel and Dean. Now however, it is so deeply ingrained in their heads that they could get in this position with their eyes closed, while relying on muscle memory alone, even though they don't fear pictures anymore.

They let their fans take a couple of serious pictures before Sam starts digging his fingers between his brother's ribs, and Dean's yelp makes them all crack up. Charlie adds her own dash of mischief by pinching Castiel's ass, which gets the bassist to elbow Dean in the stomach by accident. A few more flashes go off while Castiel apologises profusely and holds onto the singer who is doubled over in half-genuine and half-mocked pain, then Benny suggests that the fans allow the band to leave and rest.

"Sam needs his beauty sleep," he jokes, although his face, schooled in a stern and serious expression, is a little scary.

"And I need to eat," Charlie grumbles, patting her empty stomach. "Come on guys, say goodbye!"

Dean, after comforting Castiel by telling him that he is not that hurt, stands up straight and waves at the girls and boys who are slowly walking away but keep turning around every now and then to catch a last glimpse of the band, a last image to cherish. Next to him, Cas smiles softly at the last couple of fans leaving the venue and Dean feels his heart give a painful twinge in his chest.

The singer would give anything to have those smiles directed to him... Well, no, because Cas does smile to him, all the time, but then Dean has to keep himself from reading too much in his gentle smiles. Castiel considers him his best friend, nothing more, and even though it is not enough, Dean tries to satisfy himself with that. Wishing for more would end him. Yet, sometimes he can't help staring with an intent look, searching for a hint that could betray Castiel's interest in him - he never finds one.

They are best friends though, a fact that makes Dean both glad and desperate. Castiel might wrap a loose arm around his waist during a picture and the singer can't react, can't let his heart imagine how this embrace would feel if Cas just tightened his grip a little, if he pressed Dean closer to his own body. The bassist also has this habit of standing close to the people he is talking to, especially when he is speaking with Dean, and the singer can feel Cas' breath like a soft caress on his own lips. He could get drunk on this sensation alone.

He knows that he should do something about these feelings. Telling Castiel would be a start, but the potential consequences scare him: his friend probably won't be able to return his affection the way Dean would want him to or, worse, Cas would try: he wouldn't want to disappoint his friend or break his heart and... It would end badly. For now, remaining silent is safer.

"Dean, are you okay?"

The singer glances at this brother, who is looking at him with a frown. Shit. His brother knows him even better than he knows himself so of course, Sam had to notice that he was a bit lost in his thoughts, and not bright ones at that. Thankfully, he doesn't know the exact nature of these specific thoughts - small mercies.

"I'm fine," he replies, but too fast, if the disbelieving look on Sam's face is anything to go by. "Really, I'm fine. Just hungry and tired."

"Right," Sam mumbles.

"Come on, Sasquatch," he teases with a smile. "Let's go get you a salad."

His brother snorts but complies, following Benny who is heading for the black van they use to drive the band around town - the fucking ugly van that makes Dean's heart long for his beloved Impala.

Just because the world hates Dean, Castiel trips when he climbs in the car after him and he only keeps his balance thanks to the singer, already sitting, when he catches himself on his thighs. With a hand dangerously close to Dean's crotch.

"Sorry," Castiel says as he withdraws his hand and sits next to Dean, a little breathless, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it's okay, Cas," the singer chokes out with a nervous laugh, trying to ignore the way his skin burns where Castiel laid his hand, even through the fabric of his jeans. "What would you do without me, uh? You'd have smashed your head against the window?"

"My saviour," his friend laughs and flashes him a grateful smile, "Thank you, Dean."

It is so unfair, the singer thinks as he nods to Castiel and only distractedly listens to Charlie talking about Italian food. So unfair to stand so close to him all the time and never be allowed to reach out and press a kiss to these smiling lips. To love him from afar only, to keep in his heart all the feelings that threaten to overwhelm him, that make him want to blurt it all out.

Dean is exhausted by his constant efforts to keep his hands from running through Cas' dark and messy hair, from caressing the stubble that adorns his chin and cheeks... And when he thinks he's doing okay, that he's got himself under control, Cas has to go and ruin all his efforts with a gummy smile and a blink of his blue eyes.

Seriously, Dean could punch every single person that once explained to him that being in love was a wonderful feeling - starting with his brother. Why has no one ever told him that it mostly hurts? Because sure, seeing Cas every day is amazing for his addicted heart but every day, his feelings grow more and more, more intense but also more painful... And Dean doesn't know how long he will be able to endure it.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments, it will help me to meet your expectations better (hopefully) and it will make my day. Until next time! :)
> 
> (Join me on [tumblr](http://www.like-a-bucky.tumblr.com) if you want!)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for the kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks the first chapter already gained, I hope I won't disappoint with this second chapter!  
> Warning: drinking contest going on in this chapter and sex under the influence. To be clear, both partners are consenting but this will be discussed further in the third chapter :)

  


In the apartment that _Hell's Spawn_ shares when they are not on the road or on a vacation in their respective family, all is quiet. So quiet that it can't be normal: usually, one would be able to hear music, either because Sam is playing a little something on his acoustic guitar or because Dean listens to his vinyl's and shares this amazing sound and all its little crackles with the three others, whether they want it or not. Even when they're asleep in the middle of the night, some sort of noise still echoes in the flat. After all, Charlie snores, even though she will never admit to it. They should record her, just for science. Also, Castiel doesn't need much sleep, in spite of the hectic life they have sometimes, so most mornings, he will get up earlier than everyone else and wander through the apartment, coffee cup in hand, until he settles on the couch to read or goes outside, on the balcony, and watches the sun rise. One could hear his soft footsteps or the gentle click of his cup against the balcony railing.

However, none of these sounds can be heard that morning. Dean, wide awake and already up to no good, snickers behind his hand and almost lets out a high-pitched squeak when someone - Charlie - elbows him in the ribs to remind him to be quiet. Behind them, Castiel rolls his eyes with indulgence and nods at Dean to keep walking. Well, creeping on their tippy toes would be more accurate.

It's a special day, November 2nd, which means that Sam turns twenty-four this very day. The guitarist is still in bed, sleeping like the dead, and his fellow band members have gathered early to surprise him: Castiel is carrying a birthday cake (there's also an apple pie in the fridge, because everyone in their right mind knows that pie tops cake any day, even a birthday cake with fruits and whipped cream inside and marzipan all around it) while the redhead has an armful of gifts. One of them, from Dean, consists of some of Bon Jovi's original music sheets from the eighties. The radiant smile he already imagines appearing on his brother's still sleepy face will be totally worth the money he spent on these. (That shit is expensive, you know.)

So, there is the cake-bearer, the gifts-bearer, and then there's Dean. Empty handed and leading the way to Sam's bedroom with a sly grin at the prospect of what he is going to do to wake up his brother. For the record, Castiel firmly opposed to it; Dean took good note of it but went ahead with his plan anyway. Cas might have him wrapped around his finger - even though the bassist does _not_ know that - but Dean still has some decisional power.

Holding his breath, the singer gingerly pushes open the door to Sam's bedroom. The hinges don't make the slightest noise and the three of them walk in, still as silent as cats. Dean's shoulders shake with repressed laughter as he nears the bed where Sam is drooling a little - gross - and he grabs the edge of the mattress in a firm hold... Only to lift it up all of a sudden and turn it up, sending his brother waltz in the air even as he lets out a loud shout:

"Happy birthday, Sammy!"

"What the... Dean!" Sam exclaims in shock, looking up from his spot on the floor, dishevelled and stunned. "You..."

 _Flash!_ Charlie laughs in delight and lowers her camera, proud to add a new unflattering picture of Sam to her collection.

"You should have seen your face!" she says with an innocent smile. "So surprised, so... Astonished! You were perfect, Sam, thank you."

The guitarist grumbles something that none of them understands but that might have been mean, so they don't ask him to repeat himself. Castiel offers an apologetic smile to his friend though, but Sam only shrugs. It's not like he didn't know that his brother could be a jerk. He has twenty-four years of experience dealing with Dean's crap - and he wouldn't want his brother to change, ever, although he might not say so right now. His butt kind of hurts.

"Happy birthday, Sam," Castiel says as he presents the cake to the other man, who's slowly getting back on his feet. "Do not forget to make a wish before you blow the candles."

"Thanks guys," the guitarist tells them with a smile, although he turns to glare at his brother. "You shouldn't have."

"As if we weren't going to do something for your birthday," Charlie chuckles, tinkering with her camera to switch it to recording mode. "Come on now, you might want to blow these before the whole cake burns."

Sam stays still for a second, probably to humour Castiel and make his wish, before he takes a deep breath and lets it out, aiming for the twenty-four candles that Dean insisted to plant on the cake: he wasn't going to light up number shaped candles for his little brother. Hell, Sam might turn fifty and he would still find a way to use the right amount of candles. He's an awesome brother.

  


  


Dean is such a fantastic brother that he takes the birthday boy as well as the two remaining members of the band out, in order to celebrate and unwind a little: the pressure of the expectations regarding their latest album and the beginning of their tour have both taken a toll on their minds and bodies and even though they have had the time to grow used to it, relaxing is always a good idea.

They have been in the business for three years and half - wait, that is not accurate. Sam and his brother started to play the guitar together when they were six and ten years old, then Dean found out that he liked to write songs and sing more than playing (and he got shit for it at school, although he never let it push him down.) Charlie started to bang on pots and pants at eight, so her mother decided to let her take drum lessons in hopes to better channel her need to make noise. And Cas... He played a lot of instruments during his childhood: piano, violin, flute and clarinet, or at least those are the ones Dean remembers. His parents insisted on a classical and strict education, so severe that the singer isn't surprised that his friend ended up trying to piss them off, mostly by playing music that his parents wouldn't approve of: rock music.

So yeah, all four of them have been making music for a long time but they only started to make money out of it almost four years ago. During these four years, they learned the hard way that taking breaks, from the fans, from the studios, from the stage even, was important for their wellbeing and health. They can handle some pressure, even heavy sometimes, but they manage to take their minds off of things when needed; Charlie almost broke down once because of stress, this is not a situation they want to experience again.

Tonight turns out to be one of these nights when they let go, allow themselves to be like every other young man or woman, pretend that they are not a famous band. Of course, people recognise them, sometimes ask for a picture or an autograph, but they often manage to pass unnoticed in some of the bars where they are regulars - or maybe people are so used to see them there that they don't pay attention anymore. Anyway, it is a nice change.

Although they are successful, paparazzi don't follow their every move, nor do people gather in front of their apartment, cameras in hand, to snap a picture of the first face they catch sight of. It means that they are able to go to a restaurant, to the movies or merely to the local park for a walk without a crowd of screaming girls following them up. It also means that tonight, only the four of them go to the venue that Dean chose, a mix between a bar and a nightclub, and Benny doesn't need to escort them in and out. Everyone in the staff gets a free evening, their bodyguard included; the poor Benny doesn't often get to enjoy the parties the band is invited to since he always has a job to do, making sure that everything goes well and that his protégés don't make fools of themselves (that special task mostly concerns Dean, whose mouth sometimes runs faster than his brain, especially so if he has drunk a little too much.)

As soon as she enters the bar, Charlie runs to a table at the back that she spotted even before they made it past the front door and the three men follow her from afar, until they join her. Their friend chose a table that five high stools surround, in a corner at medium distance from the bar counter and the dance floor, the perfect spot for a rock band that doesn't want to be too recognised that night.

"So, Sam, what are you drinking?" the redhead asks. "First round's on me."

"Just a beer, thanks."

"You're no fun," she pouts. "But fine. Dean, Castiel? Choose your poison."

"I will have a gin fizz," the bassist says, surprising them all - Cas doesn't often decides to drink alcohol, for the simple reason that he can't handle it: barely one glass and he's wasted already.

"Tequila for me," Dean settles at last. "You need help carrying the drinks back?"

"Nope, I'll be fine. See you bitches in a few!"

As she leaves and slips through the other patrons, Sam turns to the bassist with a grin on his face:

"So, are you drinking tonight? What about a contest?"

"Very funny," Castiel answers with a roll of his eyes, fully aware that he would never win, which Sam knows as well. "And I am not _drinking_ , I will only have that one glass. I am far more responsible than you think I am."

Dean laughs at that, thinking back to the night they released their first album and Cas drank himself under the table in his happiness.

"I know what you are thinking about, Dean," the bassist tells him with a smile that screams trouble if his friend dares to comment on that, "and this is not going to happen again."

"Sure," Sam snorts as he grasps the topic of the silent conversation going on between his brother and his friend, "until the next time."

"Would you shut up? You are not nice today."

"It's my birthday," Sam shrugs, "I'm allowed to be mean if I want to."

"Who is Gigantor being mean to?" Charlie asks as she comes back, carrying a tray with way too many glasses.

"Me," Castiel answers before the guitarist can take offense to the nickname, then his eyes grow mildly horrified as he notices the eight drinks the young woman has brought back. "Charlie, what are those?"

"It's the happy hour," she explains with a huge grin, pointing to the twin Sex on the beach's she received, "We get two instead of one. Sorry, Castiel. Hey, you do know you can stop at one gin fizz, right? I can take the other one if you don't want it."

"Aw, Cas," Sam teases him, the little shit. "Two won't hurt you. You just have to go slow."

"Come on, Sam, give him a break," Dean interferes with a laidback smile, knowing that his brother would never force Cas to actually drink, but also too enamoured not to defend his friend.

"Thank you, Dean, but I can take care of myself," the bassist responds with a disarming smile as he grabs two glasses from the tray. "Sam, I challenge you."

Oh God, no. Dean smoothes a hand down his face while Charlie shakes her head and Sam laughs, delighted.

"Bring it on!"

"This is such a bad idea," the redhead breathes, eyes locking with Dean's. "Hey, you and I must stay sober. We'll be driving these two."

"I know, don't worry," the singer tells her with a wink, although he turns to Cas with a concerned expression marring his face.

They came with two cars so that they could leave separately if one of them wanted to call it a night earlier than the others, but now it's clear that neither Sam nor Castiel are going to leave before Dean and Charlie; they will fight each other until the end to know who is the best drinker. None of them doubts that the mere winning designation rules out Cas from the start, but the dumbass is going to try anyway. Dean will just keep his fingers crossed so that his friend won't puke all over the Impala's upholstery.

The two idiots start slow, thankfully: they take normal sips of their drinks, beer and gin fizz, and chat like they usually do with Dean and Charlie, until Castiel points out that a cocktail like his own is way stronger than a ridiculous beer and that Sam should up his game. Which he does, ordering vodka shots for the both of them at the counter. Dean's brother looks perfectly normal, he's doing fine as expected, but Cas is already... Um. His blue eyes can't seem to fully focus on what they are seeing and Charlie wouldn't be surprised if his brain thought that there were three glasses in front of him instead of one.

Castiel is a happy drunk, up to the tipping point where he starts to cry because he's laughing too much, then he actually cries out of sadness and can't stop anymore. Dean really, _really_ hopes that it won't come to this... Hell, he'll do his best so that it won't. Therefore, when Cas almost slips from his stool, Dean supports his weight by laying one of Cas' arms across his shoulders and he helps him up.

"I think you should stop now, Cas," he says softly, although he keeps his voice clear enough to be heard through the drunk haze in Castiel's mind. "You want some water? A virgin mojito, maybe?"

"I ain't no virgin," Castiel grumbles, still managing to sound offended.

Charlie and Sam both laugh at that, but Dean feels his heart tighten unexpectedly. It's ridiculous: he knows that Castiel isn't a virgin, hasn't been since he was seventeen, but he doesn't like to think about the women his friend dated or fucked. Well, both, to be accurate, because Cas doesn't fuck around, prefers to have emotional connections with his partners... He makes love. Probably like a champ, too.

"Okay, Cas, it's definitely enough for you. We'll call it a night. Charlie, I'll drive him back. You take care of this gigantic moron, alright?"

"Copy that," Charlie offers him a salute, then helpfully supplies, "Aspirin's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. See you tomorrow."

Dean makes his way out, half-carrying and half-trailing Castiel behind him; he has never felt more grateful to not draw the paparazzi's attention too much: a picture of Cas in this inebriated state would make smoke come out of Crowley's ears.

"Cas?" he asks as he searches his pocket for his car keys. "You hear me?"

"Yes," his friend replies in a whisper, before a huge (drunk) grin splits his face in two. "Did I win, Dean?"

"Sure," the singer tells him, unable to ruin this broad and almost ambrosial smile. "You were a real warrior back there."

"I'm glad," he giggles as Dean helps him onto the passenger seat of the Impala. "Oooh, shotgun!"

Dean hurries to take his own place behind the wheel and turns on the ignition, looking forward to come back home: the first signs of uncontrollable happiness have just appeared, he'd rather be back to the apartment before the tears hit. Cas curls on himself and against the window, which would have Dean worried if the bassist didn't have his eyes wide open, staring at the lights of the streets and houses they pass by.

When they finally make it back to the apartment, Dean has to carry his friend bridal style inside the elevator - although with much less grace than shown by the wedding pictures in magazines - because Cas wrapped his arms around his neck when he opened the car door and this baby refused to let go. Under any other circumstances, Dean would probably enjoy this close proximity between their bodies, the warmth he feels radiating from Castiel's frame; he has dreamt of this for a long time, since the day they met, and he wishes that it could be real, that his friend would willingly hold onto him this way.

However, Dean nearly drops him when Castiel hides his face into his neck and breathes out deeply, tickling his skin, and rests one of his hands against his chest.

"You are so firm," he says, pawing at him.

"Cas?" the singer whispers with a gulp, not sure that he heard properly.

No sound answers him but Dean feels a kiss pressed to his throat, and his whole body heats up.

"C... Cas?" he croaks.

Castiel hums against his neck, a low vibrating noise that makes a shiver run down Dean's whole body, tingling in delicious places. He has to remind himself that Castiel is drunk and straight, that he doesn't know what is happening, what _he_ is doing.

The elevator dings when they reach their floor and Dean almost runs toward their door in his haste to put Cas to bed before any of them does something inappropriate and reckless. The bassist doesn't help though, as he keeps kissing Dean's neck softly, his lips like the brush of a butterfly's wings against a flower. Inconveniently, slow and sensual touches are also what the singer likes the most in intimate situations and Castiel is heading down a dangerous path here. He has to stop. Dean has to stop him.

"Cas," he starts, trying to unlock the door, "please..."

"Dean," his friend interrupts him, lifting his head to stare into green eyes. "Dean... Kiss me."

"What... No. Cas, please, you're drunk, you don't know what you're..."

"I know what I'm doing," Castiel declares. "Please, Dean, please... Kiss me."

The singer manages to ignore the soft whine that comes out of his best friend's lush lips and he opens the door, pushing them both inside the apartment and gingerly putting Cas down. That doesn't seem to please the other man because two seconds later, Dean's back hits the wall as Castiel wobbles on his feet in front of him, holding onto the lapels of his jacket.

"I said, _kiss me_. Please," he adds slowly, like an afterthought.

Dean allows himself two seconds to think before he dives in. It's just a kiss, he tells himself ( _wrong_.) Just a kiss, Castiel will be satisfied and they'll both go to bed, Cas won't remember a single thing in the morning and Dean will torture himself for months with the memory of what was and would never be again.

Kissing Castiel feels... Overwhelming. With a simple brush of his lips against his friend's mouth, Dean can taste the vodka and the subtler, more pleasant taste of _Cas_. His right hand cups Castiel's face gently, tilting his head a little so that they won't hit each other's nose as Dean deepens the kiss. He treads carefully, expecting to receive a punch and a disbelieving glare at any moment, but none of that happens: Castiel answers with enthusiasm to the tongue licking at his lips and his mouth parts open on a soft gasp that Dean swallows eagerly. It's... It's perfect, too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

His mind keeps pulling the alarm with each gentle caress of Dean's tongue against Cas' but it's too late; the singer could get drunk on the feeling of Castiel's mouth on his and he does, so blissful now that he has had a glimpse of what Cas tastes like, that he can't think straight anymore.

When they pull apart to take a deep breath, Dean has to resist the urge to take a step back: this is the moment Cas snaps back to reality, starts crying or falls asleep... This is the moment where the dream ends.

It doesn't. Castiel looks into his eyes once, a plea in his gorgeous blue orbs, and this is all it takes for Dean to close the distance between them once again. However, it is Castiel who decides to move; he who pushes Dean back but never ceases kissing him, blindly making his way through the apartment and towards one of their rooms (Dean's, he thinks), he who stumbles and falls into bed with the singer. Also he who starts undressing his friend.

"Cas... For the last time..." Dean almost begs, his fingers closing around Castiel's right hand, "Don't do something you will regret tomorrow. I couldn't stand it."

An intense stare pins him to the mattress. Dean can't be certain that this expression he reads on his friend's face actually means _I want this, for real_ , but he'll take it. God, he'll take everything Cas is willing to give him. Even if that means that he'll have to take the regrets too.

He doesn't want to think about it though, not now. At this instant, he only focuses on Castiel's hands, clumsy in his intoxicated state but still amazing on his naked skin. This is all his mind will consider tonight: the caresses on his flushed body, the sensation of Cas' stubble chafing his chest, the kisses laid on his clavicles. The hesitation, subtle but present, when Castiel falters and doesn't know what to do anymore, how to proceed, and Dean gently kisses him before he lies on his stomach to open himself for Castiel.

He feels like he's burning, consumed by a fire licking every part of his body when Cas, finally making one with him, rests his forehead against his back, his breath uneven and warm. Then he moves and Dean explodes.

  


  


Silence reigns over the bedroom. Castiel lies half-asleep, exhausted by both the sex and the alcohol, but next to him, Dean remains wide awake. In his head, happiness and contentment struggle with the fear that he can feel creeping over him. He dreads the morning that has to come, the moment when Cas sobers up and fully realises what they have done. Through the comfortable mantle of bliss that tries to cover and placate him, he knows that he is going to face rejection and disappointment once the sun rises: Cas' heart doesn't belong to him.

For now, though... Dean allows himself to enjoy the few hours of euphoria he has left and he shifts on the mattress to lie closer to his friend and cuddle with him, revelling in the protectiveness he feels when Castiel sleepily wraps an arm around his waist.

The heartbreak can wait.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading so far! Don't forget that comments make me very happy, just like burgers do Cas :) Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! As I said on my tumblr, I was able to publish the third chapter today and if everything goes well with my university work, I'll update every two weeks :) Enjoy this chapter!

  


Dean doesn't dare open his eyes. He has been awake for a little while, several minutes that he has spent breathing slowly, pretending to be asleep still: he knows that next to him, Castiel lies wide awake too. He can't face him though, not yet.

The singer wants to hold onto this sweet dream a little while longer, keeping his eyes closed to imagine that this is not the last time he will touch Castiel's body, that this isn't the end of this perfect interlude. If he could, he would turn around and watch his lover of one night as he rests... But meeting Cas' blue eyes would make this whole illusion fade.

His friend shifts behind him and this is at this exact instant that Dean realises something of the highest importance and opens his eyes in shock. It is but a simple thing, really, yet one that gets his hopes up, no matter how hard he tries to stay grounded; it is one simple gesture that could change everything: Castiel is awake, yes, but he is also caressing Dean's hip with his fingertips.

He can't help it: Dean's breath hitches, catching in his throat, and a knot of mixed emotions tightens in his belly. Hope, fear, love, longing... And confusion. Why does Cas... Does it mean...

No, he decides. He can't start imagining reasons for these delicate caresses, not when they might turn out to be wrong. However... He can't ignore the weirdness of it all: Castiel was drunk the previous night, fine, and maybe they slept together while he couldn't really understand what it all meant - although he's not going to lie, Cas' hands sure as hell knew what they were doing - but the guy must have sobered up by now. So, why would he be still touching Dean's body if he didn't want to or didn't understand the situation?

As if he had read his mind, the bassist suddenly stops his ministrations and Dean's heart consequently misses a beat, before it starts pumping faster and faster. This is it, the end of the dream, the harsh return to reality. Cas is going to back away and realise that...

Castiel moves his hand again. Higher, tickling Dean's waist, and it wraps around his midsection and holds on. Tightly.

"I know that you are awake, Dean," he whispers in the singer's ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin below the lobe.

Both the rough voice, laced with remains of sleep, and the warmth of the words teasing his earlobe make Dean shiver. He blinks, willing his body not to react to the delicious sensation in ways that he can't control.

"I'm surprised you're still here," he croaks out.

Dean nearly facepalms and whines in shame when he hears that his voice manages to convey everything he is trying not to show through his body, against his will. He sounds desperate and a little horny too but... Cas is often oblivious to people's feelings (see Dean's hopeless crush on him) so perhaps he won't notice this time either.

"Where else should I be?" Castiel asks, genuine incomprehension in his voice.

That is enough to coax Dean into turning around to actually look at his friend. As he moves and squirms on the mattress to roll around, the bed sheets tangle in his legs, slipping a few inches down Castiel's body. The young man forces himself not to stare at his strong shoulders, even though he remembers clinging to them as Cas rocked his hips into him last night. His friend looks like a debauchee, with his sex hair (literally) and his exhausted but content expression, not to mention the beautiful hickey adorning his right nipple.

Right. Dean did this, in a pathetic attempt to mark Cas as his own, so that his friend would have a memory, albeit ephemeral, of their night together. The singer clears his throat as he feels the blood rush to his cheeks - as well as other places - and he says tentatively:

"You... You do know that we..."

He slows to a stop, unable to finish his sentence and face the consequences. Castiel, however, doesn't seem to have the same concerns.

"That we slept together?" he guesses. "Yes, I am aware."

Seeing his friend so calm and composed almost makes Dean panic. Almost. He shouldn't even consider panicking, not when he's the one who totally assumes liking men.

"You're not freaking out?" he blurts out in disbelief. "About the part where you're straight but you totally banged another dude?"

 _And you liked it_ , he wants to add; his body is sore enough to prove it. He keeps silent on this though, since his friend is blushing enough already at the mere reminder of the night he spent with another man. Taste the rainbow...

"I certainly had never tried guys before," Castiel admits, almost shyly. "But, Dean..."

"Do you regret it?" the singer asks, unable to hold back the question any longer.

He expects a _yes_. He expects Cas to fidget, to ponder the best way to tell him as gently as possible that yes, he regrets this night and everything they did together. Breathing, kissing, touching, holding hands in the frenzy of their passion...

"No," Castiel says with wide eyes, as if offended that Dean would even think that about him.

Dean's surprise must show, because Castiel adds:

"I am not going to say that I had... planned this. But it was... very enjoyable."

In Cas' language, it probably means that this was the best night of his life. As far as he's concerned, Dean certainly thinks so. With a twinge in his chest, he casts his green eyes down and murmurs:

"You were drunk... I'm sorry, I know I should have stopped you... Us. But I, uh..."

"Dean," Castiel interrupts him, one single word spoken with his gravelly voice enough to shut up his friend. "I know that I was drunk and I apologise if I pushed myself onto you in any way that was uncomfortable. If you are concerned about me, though... I can assure you that I never felt taken advantage of. I was... very much into it."

The singer closes his eyes again, bracing himself. It doesn't mean what he wants it to mean: Castiel was into it, fine, it doesn't change the fact that he was drunk and probably would never have made a move on Dean with a clear mind.

"Would you do it again?" he asks anyway, just to torture himself a bit more.

When Cas doesn't reply, the singer sighs softly, fighting the urge to stand up and run. He knew it would turn out like that, he shouldn't even be disappointed.

"May I kiss you?" Castiel asks out of the blue after a short silence, startling Dean out of his sad thoughts.

"If you're trying to change the topic..." the singer starts with hesitation, confused and unsure of where this is going, "You're doing it wrong."

A deadpan stare answers him, followed by an exasperated eye roll.

"It means that I would do it again, idiot," Castiel explains, before he leans in and cups Dean's face to kiss him, slow and gentle in his moves.

The singer isn't sure to understand what is going on but he clings to his friend all the same. Only one thought is going through his mind at the moment and he marvels at it: Cas wasn't disgusted nor does he regret the night they spent together. This is more than Dean hoped for... Is it a dream? Is he going to wake up? No, Castiel's kisses feel real, very much so. He's already gasping for air when he realises that drunk or not, his best friend is one hell of a kisser.

"Cas..." he moans, when the bassist neglects his mouth to focus on his throat, nipping at the thin skin.

If someone had told Dean that he would end up in bed with his best friend, not only once but even twice in a row, the singer would have laughed (then cried, because teasing him like this on such an important topic was a shitty thing to do.) And if the same person had told him that the sex would be even better the second time around, he wouldn't have believed them.

Yet... It is. Castiel is, _feels_ , better. First of all, he isn't drunk anymore, which, to Dean, means the world: he is having sex with his best friend because they both want it, the decision is theirs and doesn't depend on a drunk whim. This is real.

Now aware of every single one of his actions, Castiel seems more hesitant, although not in a bad way. Drunk Cas was enthusiastic, yes, and he hasn't lost any of his motivation: Dean distinctly feels the hardness pressed against his thigh when Castiel rolls until he's hovering over the singer. But he's more careful now, almost afraid to do wrong and not bring Dean as much pleasure as he wants to.

"Does this feel good?" he asks in a whisper, his fingertips circling one of Dean's nipples, already tight after a few pinches here and there.

"Yes," the singer answers on the same tone, letting out a soft moan when Castiel closes his mouth around the pink nipple.

Dean raises shaky hands to run them through Cas' thick hair, sliding them down to his neck and back, feeling the muscles roll under his fingers. He shivers when one of his friend's knees nudges his legs apart, soon joined by an adventurous hand that touches his inner thighs in gentle and soft strokes, sensual and teasing, and Dean collapses on his pillow, biting his lips to hold back his moans.

"You like that?" Cas asks again.

In everyone else's mouth, this would sound like the premise of dirty talk, a question intending to make Dean spill his guts about the touches that get him off. In Castiel's though, it shows nothing but pure, genuine curiosity. Until a few hour prior, Cas had never had sex with another man, so how is he supposed to know what Dean will enjoy? Of course he's a man too, he may be inspired by his own preferences in bed... But it will only get him so far.

Deans nods in silence, afraid that if he starts to speak now, he will never stop. Yes, he likes that. He also liked the way Cas thrust into him last night, how he kissed Dean while he was deep inside him. He doesn't say it, only encourages Castiel by bucking up against his hand, looking at him with want and lust, whispering a pleased _yes_ when he finally touches him where he needs it the most. Dean allows Cas to take his time as he discovers his body, blushing when the shorter man murmurs, almost reverently:

"You have freckles on your shoulders... Dean, you look... gorgeous."

"Hush," the singer enjoins him, embarrassed at the admiration he hears in Castiel's voice.

Dean grabs his partner's waist to flip them over, delighted by the surprise on Cas' face when he finds himself on his back. There is so much that Dean wants to do to him, with him, he wants to make him feel, show him all the pleasure they can get together, but right now he especially wants to ride Cas, hard and fast, until they both see stars. He feels a bit sore from the previous night, nothing he can't endure though, and Castiel grabs the box of condoms that lies discarded next to the bed, watching with hunger in his blue eyes as Dean makes sure that he is still loose enough to take him.

"Does it hurt?" Castiel asks in concern when the singer sinks down on him, his eyelids fluttering close as he feels the faint burn.

"I'm fine," Dean croaks out, shivering and arching his back, on the edge of losing his sanity already.

It feels too good. He knows he won't last long but neither is Cas, throbbing inside him, and Dean doesn't waste time. He starts out slow, rocking his hips back and forth to ease the both of them into it, until he tries to bounce a little, bracing himself on Cas' chest. Castiel gasps, reaching out to hold onto Dean's hips.

"You like that?" the singer drawls, repeating Castiel's own words, but clearly teasing him this time.

"Dean..."

"Yeah?"

"I... Dean, I..."

"Can't hear you, Cas. Am I too good? So good you can't speak anymore?"

Castiel growls, sitting up in a sudden, brusque move, and he places a rough kiss on Dean's lips before he slips his hands under his friend's ass, lifting him up then slamming him right back onto his cock.

"Cas!" Dean moans in surprise and pleasure. "Again... Do it again!"

Castiel complies, again and again, feeling the exhaustion in his muscles and the heat surrounding him. Dean smiles in ecstasy, imagining that the world is fading away to leave them like this, alone and joined together; he grasps his friend's shoulders, tightening and loosening his grip as Castiel's cock hits him just _right_ , and he finally cups his lover's cheeks to hold him still. Dean kisses him, more roughly than he intended to, but sparks are travelling throughout his whole body and he just can't hold back, he needs to convey every feeling he has for Castiel through this kiss - it doesn't even matter that Cas won't understand what it means.

Cas digs his fingers in his hips, using his last strength to pound him as hard as he can, and when he comes with a breathy sound of pleasure, Dean comes between their bodies with a faint moan of Castiel's name on his lips.

The singer sags against his friend. Collapses, almost. He still has a blissful, stupid smile on his face. Slowly, Castiel gathers him in his arms and lifts him up with gentle hands so that he slips out of Dean's body, then he lies down on the mattress, still holding the singer against his chest. It takes Dean a few minutes to realise that they're cuddling: his head rests atop Cas' heart that he can hear beat more and more steadily now that they have somewhat calmed down. And Cas, shielding him from the outside world with his strong arms still wrapped around him, is running a hand through Dean's blond hair.

Dean would say that this is a perfect moment. Perfection scares him though, 'cause perfection can't be real.

"Cas?" he whispers after a while.

The hand in his hair halts.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Uh..." the singer hesitates, licking his dry lips, closing his eyes to give himself more courage. "I want to know... What are we?"

This, right here, is the question that he has tried not to think about during the whole night. Castiel doesn't usually hook up with anyone, so... Why with Dean? What does it say about them? How do they go from there? Do they remain friends and never talk about this night again?

"I... don't know," Castiel says softly. "What I experienced with you was not something I did with anyone else."

"Are you finally freaking out about your dude on dude action?" Dean asks with a forced laugh.

Castiel notices, of course. He knows what Dean sounds like when he's genuinely happy.

"I'm not," he answers, tilting his head to the side, clear sign of reflection. "I had never considered it before but attraction to both men and women doesn't really bother me. It could be worse."

"Sure," Dean says, this time with a sincere chuckle.

Only Castiel would be so relaxed at the thought of being attracted to more than one gender... There is no epiphany, no panic, just quiet acceptance even as he lies in bed with his best friend, after doing less than innocent things with said man.

"To answer your question," Castiel adds, immediately making Dean tense and hold his breath, "I like what we did..."

"Me too, just so you know," the singer says quickly, getting a low laugh out of Castiel's mouth.

"I noticed," he jokes, resuming his caresses through Dean's hair. "Seriously, though. You're my best friend, not some stranger... I do not even sleep with people I don't know. Even if I were drunk, I wouldn't. But I know you, so I guess it didn't bother me. Given that we both liked what happened and since I believe none of us is seeing anyone at the moment... I think we should do this again, some time? If you want to?"

Dean's heart stops.

"You mean..." he starts slowly, "like friends with benefits?"

"Perhaps? I know we both have urges; we're friends, we liked this night, so... Does this idea displease you?"

"No!" Dean almost shouts, before his voice drops several octaves, "No, Cas, I'd like that. I'm just surprised that you suggested something like this."

Surprised and disappointed. Not that he is going to admit as much to Castiel. Friends with benefits... Isn't it better than nothing at all? It is certainly a better development than the rejection he expected.

"Well, last night was a surprise too," Castiel mumbles.

"Right," the singer agrees.

A surprise. What an understatement. Dean doesn't think that he will ever recover from the husky voice Castiel used when he asked, _commanded_ , to be kissed. The singer sighs against Cas' chest in remembrance: these kisses, the sex, all of it was amazing. He wonders for a second how it would feel to actually make love to Castiel, how different it would be if his feelings were returned by the bassist. He thinks they would be insatiable, impossible to stop. But he shouldn't imagine it: he knows it won't happen, so it's no use torturing himself over this. Dean will just take what he can.

  


They don't tell Sam nor Charlie. They haven't decided to hide the strange status of their relationship but they didn't exactly have the time, nor did they feel the need, to explain to them that _hey guys, we slept together and we might do it again, that's great, right?_ Then again, Castiel and Dean weren't discreet that morning so maybe they won't even have to explain anything: perhaps the two others already know or guessed what happened that night, after Dean drove Cas back to the apartment.

That afternoon, Dean has a hard time focusing on the band's activities, namely a recording for a show that will air in a few weeks, followed by an interview for a rock magazine. Dean sings as he usually does and the three musicians are on fire, that's not the problem, but the singer keeps looking at Cas instead of flirting with the camera like he was asked to. He partakes less than usual during the interview as well, too busy reliving the events of the early morning.

He just can't believe it. It still feels like a dream, a beautiful dream, and he's scared that he will wake up and find himself alone in his bed again. He can't help it, he keeps looking at Castiel as if his friend would disappear if he dared not watch him.

Either the bassist doesn't notice or he pretends not to, because every time Dean glances at him, his friend's eyes are set on the interviewer, a blonde girl who, if you ask Dean, might be smiling a little too often at Cas. Not that he's jealous. They are best friends slash friends with benefits, fine; that doesn't mean that they are exclusive and it certainly doesn't give the singer the right to be possessive. If he starts like this when they have been _something_ for a few hours only, he's screwed: what is he going to do next, propose to him?

Oh, he would, if he could. In another universe, in a parallel reality where he and Castiel are in love with each other. Dean has it all planned: it would happen on their anniversary, their fifth, maybe their seventh, who knows, and he would bring Cas back to the restaurant where they had their first date. He would kneel and tell Castiel how much he loves him, how much he wants to grow old by his side, and he would offer the ring and hug Cas once he'd say yes...

"Dean?" the interviewer, Rachel something, asks in worry. "Are you alright? Do you need some water?"

"Uh?" Dean snaps back to reality at the woman's words and blinks once, twice, surprised to feel a light wetness at the corners of his eyes - nothing too visible, hopefully, but the emotion was unexpected; maybe he should stop thinking so much about Cas in public. "Oh. No, I'm fine, sorry... I was just... thinking. About a new song."

"So soon after your new album?" Rachel enquires, suddenly excited. "Can you tell us about your process when you write a new song? What inspires you? Do you talk about it with the rest of the band?"

Glad that his moment of weakness passed unnoticed, Dean complies, trying not to meet Castiel's gaze as he looks at the three others with a smile.

"We always end up doing it together. I mean, I get ideas, words, all that, but sometimes it's just a maelstrom of big nonsense. I know what I want to say but I can't find the right words and I need someone who knows me well to help."

"He's a loser without us," Charlie sums up, winking Dean's way.

"There's also the music," Sam adds when he sees that his brother has started to bicker with Charlie and completely forgot the question, "Dean usually writes the lyrics and keeps a guitar nearby to find a... a first rhythm, but... All three of us compose the music, we try different tunes, to find what's best for this particular song and Dean's voice."

"So what, are you always in search of new songs?" Rachel asks again. "You never take a break?

"Depends," Dean shrugs. "Months can pass and I write jack squat, but sometimes inspiration strikes and I have four, five ideas in the same week. But I always keep some notebooks, to write whatever goes through my head. Which is often crap."

"Don't sell yourself short," Castiel suddenly interferes, his voice soft and his eyes bright as he looks at Dean, before he turns to Rachel. "I have seen his notes, he writes beautiful pieces. Not all of them make it into a song, though."

The singer _doesn't_ blush at those words. But it's true, he has shown his notes to Cas, albeit reluctantly: sharing his ideas for their songs doesn't bother him but his notes include some very personal crap that he doesn't even dare sharing with his brother. He did with Castiel though, for reasons in which he didn't want to dig at first but that look crystal clear now. Cas literally knows everything about him, from his deepest thoughts to the curves of his body, with one notable exception: his true feelings. But let's not focus on that.

"And what can we expect with this new song of yours?" Rachel asks with a smile. "A powerful ballad like _Salvation_ on your first album or maybe something more... upbeat?"

She looks at him with curious and almost avid eyes, but so do his brother and their friends, actually. Right, he hasn't told them about this song yet, they didn't even know that he had been writing anything at all; he has been working on this one for weeks (maybe months even, he's not too sure anymore) but he wanted to keep it to himself. It might turn out to be his most personal song and he's a little scared still to open up about it. To be honest, he doesn't even know if he'll ever agree to put it on one of their albums: he might just share it with the three others and that would be it.

Or at least, with one specific person, no other than Castiel. After all, the song is about him.

"It's..." he starts to say, fidgeting a little on his comfortable but too low pouf, "It's still vague. I... I don't know what... I mean, I don't know how it will turn out but... It's a ballad, yeah. Definitely. Still gotta work on it though."

Thank God Rachel seems to deem it an acceptable answer enough and directs her next question to Charlie. If she had pressed the matter, he would certainly have said something that he would regret sooner or later. In a way, he has already said too much: his brother is looking at him with a half-sour and half-disbelieving expression, one that screams that he's pissed to only hear about that ballad now, and the singer can only be glad that Sam isn't a mind reader. If he knew what - who - that song is about, Dean would never hear the end of it.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still enjoying this story, don't forget to drop a comment to share your thoughts ;) Until next time!


End file.
